


Oh Hell, Cupcake

by SolarMorrigan



Category: Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter (2012), Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter - Seth Grahame-Smith
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, There is a child, brief mention of vomiting, not explicit, these sure are tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29844888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarMorrigan/pseuds/SolarMorrigan
Summary: After certain catastrophic failures in childrearing, Henry figures it's best if he steers clear of children. This is easier to accomplish when they don't take an active liking to him and try to bring him baked goods
Relationships: Abraham Lincoln/Henry Sturges
Kudos: 3





	Oh Hell, Cupcake

**Author's Note:**

> I'm probably more embarrassed by this one than the porn. As embarrassed as I am about any of these at this point
> 
> I have a lot of Thoughts about Henry and kids and I probably managed to express none of them with this fic, but I also made myself laugh while writing it so here you go

Henry was staring down the barrel of a loaded gun.

If guns were chocolate cupcakes smeared with pink frosting and wielded by little girls with pleading brown eyes, it was the deadliest gun Henry had ever seen.

It had rainbow sprinkles.

Henry wondered what he could possibly have done to give anyone the impression that he liked rainbow sprinkles.

Then again, perhaps it wasn’t so much his assumed preference as it was the baker’s – in this case a seven-year-old girl by the name of Grace who lived next door to the house Henry and Abe were renting while they were in the area, who liked all things rainbow or otherwise unicorn-related, and who had for some reason taken a shine to Henry.

Abe found the whole thing deeply amusing.

Usually it was Abe who the neighborhood children would gravitate towards, and rightfully so. He would participate in games when asked, used dormant carpentry skills to help build forts and treehouses, and would mediate childish disputes with every ounce of seriousness he had leveled in courtrooms over a hundred years ago.

And this was perfectly fine with Henry; Abe had been a wonderful father and missed it deeply with whatever aching remnant of his old self he’d retained. If Abe wanted to make friends with the neighborhood children, and even with their families, Henry wouldn’t begrudge him that.

(Henry _had_ warned Abe that there was a distinct possibility that the whole act could end disastrously, but as Abe’s only response had been a solemn, “I know,” Henry had dropped the subject.)

Really, the only issue was that children made Henry uncomfortable.

At least, that was what Abe teased him for. Henry maintained that he just preferred to wait until humans grew up before he went spending time with them. Children didn’t make him uncomfortable, they were just so, so fragile in so many ways; they were so easy to _ruin_. He liked to see what they became on their own, without his intervention.

So Henry didn’t really _avoid_ kids, per se, but he didn’t spend much time with them, either.

Unless, of course, one suddenly and inexplicably decided that his refrigerator needed to be covered in glittery artwork and that he needed to be very seriously introduced to a stuffed unicorn named—actually, Henry didn’t know, the name changed every time she told him—and now, that he needed cupcakes.

Grace stared up at him, eyes wide and eager, a single confection clutched in one tiny hand to offer to him, while the other hand held and entire plastic container of the damned things.

“Those look very good,” Henry lied smoothly after a moment of stunned silence. “I can’t wait to try one later.”

“You should try one now,” Grace insisted, wiggling the treat at him.

“But I’m not hungry right now,” Henry argued gently.

Behind Grace, by the back kitchen door where she’d come in, Abe was standing and _laughing_ – not out loud, of course, but Henry could hear it all the same. He could certainly see it in Abe’s eyes.

“I want to make sure you like them,” Grace said earnestly.

“Of course I’ll like them, who doesn’t like cupcakes?” Henry glanced back up at Abe, hopeful for any kind of assistance. “Abe, you like cupcakes, don’t you?”

“Sure, I do,” Abe lied gamely (neither of them had ever so much as tasted a cupcake and had never planned on doing so). “But these cupcakes are for you.”

Traitor.

Grace was nodding fervently at Henry. “I made them for you! I picked the flavor and the frosting and my mom put them in the oven but I frosted them! And I did the sprinkles, and…” she trailed off when Henry still hadn’t reached out to take the cupcake from her. “An’ I made them for you.”

Oh, fuck. There was no way out of this, was there? She was about to start crying, Henry could _feel_ it, and _then_ what?

“Then I guess I’ll just have to try one,” Henry said, trying very hard to sound like he was cheerful about the prospect, rather than attempting with resignation to figure out how long he’d be able to keep the thing down.

“ _Really_?” Grace practically screeched in delight.

“ _Really_?” Abe echoed her over by the door, incredulous.

“Yes,” Henry answered them both, plucking the cupcake from Grace's hand and holding it up to his face.

It was just as unwieldy as he had expected.

How the hell were you supposed to eat these things? Top-first? Just fucking unhinge your jaw and take half of it in one go? Probably start by getting the paper off.

Henry did so. There was nothing for it then but to lean in and… take a bite.

This was weird.

This was so weird.

Had he been used to eating actual _food_ , it might’ve been alright, but as he wasn’t, the whole experience was just damn bizarre. The texture was strange, soft and spongy, and the frosting was even stranger, sort of sticky and slimy at once, and the whole thing was so sweet it made his teeth ache.

He had not, however, lived to be over four hundred by letting his every thought cross his face.

“Mm,” he hummed instead, chewing but not yet swallowing, and speaking around his mouthful. “This is great.”

Grace grinned, but did not budge. Damn.

Quelling a grimace, Henry swallowed… and took another bite.

Abe was watching with horrified fascination from his spot by the door, brows climbing higher and higher as Henry made it through the entire cupcake with efficient, if messy, motions. Henry could feel it churning in his stomach even before he’d finished the last bite and was already tied up in attempting to concoct a way to send Grace away.

“Thank you very much,” Henry said as he finished, reaching out to take the container of cupcakes from Grace’s delighted hands, though they were the last thing he wanted to see.

“You’re welcome!” Grace beamed.

“Grace, I don’t suppose you remember the recipe for those, do you?” Abe asked, finally stepping in to put an end to Henry’s torment.

“Uh-uh.” Grace shook her head, tearing her grin away from Henry to look at Abe.

“Do you think maybe you might go and ask your mother for us?” Abe went on, fixing a hopeful look on his face.

“Sure!” Grace chirped. “I can go do that now!”

Abe smiled, holding the back door for her. “Thank you, Grace, that would be very helpful.”

And that was no lie. As soon as Grace had stepped out the door, Henry bolted for the bathroom and was kneeling before the never-used toilet just in time.

The cupcake was even less impressive the second time around.

There was a firm hand rubbing soothingly at his back by the time his body had finished purging the offending substance.

“You’re a bastard,” Henry spat acidly – or possibly just spat acid, trying to get the taste out of his mouth.

Abe offered him a cup of mouthwash. “I really, honestly did not expect you to eat it,” he said sheepishly.

“Still a bastard,” Henry growled, taking the cup to rinse with.

“The rest of the cupcakes have been discretely disposed of,” Abe went on. “No danger of her finding out they were tossed.”

“Mhm.” Henry swished the last of the mouthwash around, spat into the bowl, then stood to close the lid and flush. “And what about when she comes skipping back with the recipe you asked for?”

Abe shrugged. “We’ll look it over, then tell her mother you have allergies.”

“ _Allergies_ ,” Henry grumbled, rolling his eyes. “We could just move.”

The line of Abe’s mouth pressed firm, the way it did when he was trying hard not to smile. “Mighty dramatic plans from the man who went out and bought magnets just to display that little girl’s art on the fridge,” he said after a long moment.

“Well what was I supposed to do with it, shove it in my desk?” Henry waved a hand in careless agitation. “That’s just rude.”

Abe said nothing. He didn’t have to. Instead, he smiled and leaned in to press a kiss to Henry’s temple and another to the corner of his mouth. Henry frowned.

“What kind of allergies?” he asked.

“I’ve heard gluten is a big one these days,” Abe offered.

“Mm, but gluten-free is being tossed around a lot,” Henry argued. “Wouldn’t put it past Grace to figure out gluten-free cupcakes.”

Abe hummed in thought. “Then you’re also allergic to eggs. And dairy. That’s a thing, right? You just have a lot of allergies and it’s best if you take care of your own diet.”

Henry snorted. “And what kind of idiot are they going to think I am, to have put all of those things into my mouth, knowing I’m allergic?”

Abe continued to smile at him, and Henry, despite himself, was warmed by it. “The kind who didn’t want to make Grace cry.”

And there was nothing about that Henry could argue with at all.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on [Tumblr](https://solarmorrigan.tumblr.com/) if that's Your Thing


End file.
